


All About Steve

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-05-03
Updated: 1999-05-03
Packaged: 2018-11-10 10:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11125323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: The answer to the age old question,"Who is Steve."





	All About Steve

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

All About Steve

All About Steve

The plain sound stage was hardly jumbled with unnecessary sets, film crew or actors. Instead, a long table supported eager volunteers answering the two phone calls that came in, and, across from them, were two figures that obtained celebrity status in the Greater Chicago area. Yes, Constable Benton Fraser, Mountie and dog-lover, and Detective Ray Vecchio, Good Fella extraordinaire, were plugging for Public Broadcast Television. Fraser could hardly keep still. He and Ray fiddled with their microphones. 

"Ray, this so exciting," Fraser confessed. 

Ray was not forthcoming in his enthusiasm. 

"Yeah, Benny," Ray mumbled, "I am so excited. If I'm not nailed down to my seat I might just jump all over the place. 

"Think of it, Ray, all the programming one need ever watch. Science programs about astronomy, animals, rodents we all love. I had to leave Diefenbaker at home otherwise he would never have been able to control himself. Helen Mirren! Can you imagine it? And my personal area of interest, stamp collecting. I can hardly contain myself." 

Ray clipped the small microphone onto his lapel. 

"Try." 

The cameraman approached the two. 

"Now this is our semi-annual drive," he explained, "be very forthright in your manner. We have to try to convince others that public television is the way to go. Try to push all the interesting programs we have. Relate a story of your exploits. That might rouse some of our more adventurous members." 

"Gee," Ray uttered sarcastically, "an excited 90-year-old. Wow." 

Once given the cue, the duo were on the air. 

"Hi," Ray raised his voice slightly, "this WCHY, Channel 30, in Chicago. I'm Detective Ray Vecchio here for Public Broadcasting." 

He turned to Fraser. Fraser quaked slightly. The excitement was getting to him. 

"I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE! OH MY GOD!!! THIS IS SO EXCITING!!! AAAAAAHHHH!!!!" 

Fraser's face was as red as his tunic and he trembled mightily with excitement. Ray instantly wanted to be disassociated with him. Fraser sat down. 

"Public Broadcasting is important because..." 

It was hard to say if anyone could have listened to Fraser's reasons. 

"Benny, why did you scream just now?" Ray asked serenely. 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean, you stood up and screamed like a schoolgirl, which is not the first time you've done that." 

Fraser squirmed. 

"I'm sorry," he apologized, "I..I just wanted to share my excitement with everyone. I believe so much in public broadcasting." He hung his head low. "I'm sorry." 

"You're such a girl," Ray smirked. 

"I am not!" Fraser answered back tartly. 

"You are so! You hold doors open for other people, you collect stamps, you stick around for doily hour at the old folks' home." 

"I'll have you know that I grew up with doilies. They shaped my childhood." 

"A lot of things shaped your childhood, Fraser. Dog pee shaped your childhood. You don't have an attachment to that, do you?" 

"Ray, let's stay off the Ashley MacIsaac vein of things and get to the matter at hand. Public broadcasting is not just a collection of T.V. shows from Great Britain but a vision..." 

"Vision..." Ray mumbled wistfully. 

"Yes, Ray, vision." 

"It just reminds me of the time you lost yours'. That's all." 

Fraser seemed a tad perplexed. Which time? 

Ray ogled his eyes at Fraser, as if he didn't know. 

"In Canada, after our plane crashed. You had some subdural hematopia or something and you couldn't see. You ran into a tree and it made a pleasantly funny sound. THONK! We tried to start a fire and you called me Steve for some reason." 

Fraser seemed rather embarrassed. 

"I did not call you Steve." 

"Oh yes, you did," Ray countered, "you called me Steve. Who is Steve, by the way." 

Fraser was caught in a proverbial trap. 

"I don't know what you are talking about. Look, perhaps we should answer a few calls. The number is: 1-800-244-2246." 

Ray laughed. 

"Or: 1-800-WHO'S STEVE ." 

The telephone rang and it was put on the loudspeaker. 

"Fraser," the voice said, "if I donate $500, will you take me to Canada with you so that we may frolic in our underwear just as you said we one day would?" 

Fraser's face contorted in shock. The P.B.S. staff was scandalized. 

"Elaine, I thought I told you not to tell anyone! I mean, it would very good of you, strange woman who I don't know, to leave such an amount. Thank you kindly." 

"Remember, ladies and gentlemen," Ray grinned, "this is the station for wild life. Next caller." 

"Um," the voice quivered uneasily, "my name is Guy...Guy Incognito and I wish to pledge my support." 

"Hello, Turnbull," Fraser greeted, "how much will you give?" 

Knowing he was sought out, Turnbull gave a modest pledge. 

"So, Turnbull, do you know anything about this Steve fella?" Ray asked. 

"No, I don't," he answered, "but I do know what really happened in Roswell." 

Turnbull was intercepted by loud crashing sounds and footsteps. The audience could only imagine what was going on. 

"No!" he screamed. "The truth is out there!" 

The telephone was off its hook leaving only the blank tone. Another caller was put on the air. 

"Hello, caller," Fraser greeted. 

"Yeah, Fraser," the gruff voice said, "you've got my interest peaked. I'll give $800 if you tell me who Steve is." 

Ray smiled. The truth was out there. 

"I cannot tell you," Fraser said, "the truth is too painful." 

"Come on, Benny," Ray cajoled, "enquiring minds want to know." 

"Alright," Fraser gave in, "it was a dark night, on Winter Solstice that strange things were done in the midnight sun..." 

Fraser pushed the door of the secluded cabin open and allowed the fur-laden figure to enter first. He brushed the snow from his coat and shoved the door closed against the prevailing wind. 

"Well, here we are," he said with a finality, observing the old, dusty furniture within. It was hardly inviting but it was certainly better than the cold outside. 

The figure removed her fur hat revealing a flowing mass of strawberry-blond hair and twinkling sea-green eyes. The heavy fur coat was thrust aside on a nearby sofa exposing a lithe body in a green jumpsuit. 

"Perhaps I should get a fire going," Fraser suggested. "Constable McCoole will be off patrol in about an hour." 

Lydia Silver reclined on the sofa in false fatigue, done rather for effect. 

"I do hate it when Steve works these long hours," she confided, "when we are married I am going to make Steve put in request that he work somewhere warmer, more cosmopolitan." 

Fraser threw the match into the wood stove. 

"Well, I'm rather partial to Inuvik myself. There isn't the stress or the mire of a big city here. Believe me, I've worked in Moosejaw. It was no holiday." 

Lydia laughed. Fraser was puzzled. 

"What?" 

"You," she laughed. 

Fraser felt uncomfortable. 

"Perhaps there is a deck of playing cards about the place," Fraser began to search the disused desk in the corner for cards. When he finally found a deck, he turned to Lydia. His pallor dropped from peachy to 'Great Scot!' white. Lydia was now dressed in a very short skirt and a rather revealing top. Fraser stepped back from the approaching woman. 

"What's the matter, Ben?" she breathed. "Are you afraid of little girls?" 

"No," he replied still backing away from the vixen, "it's just that..well, we can't play cards this close together. Perhaps we should sit over here at the table and play a nice, chaste..uh...game of cards."

She glided seductively in the air. She fed off of Fraser's aloofness. 

"I thought the Mounties' motto was: 'we always get our woman'?" 

"Actually, it is: 'Maintain the right', which was first introduced..." 

Lydia pulled on his Sam Browne belt. 

"Why don't you maintain me?" 

She pushed Fraser down on the sofa and proceeded to kiss him, despite his protests. He could only squirm. 

Suddenly, as though a gust of wind had pushed the door open with its mighty temper, Constable Steve McCoole, like the mighty red-haired Odin, had burst forth from the wintery wilderness. Stretching out his mighty arm to the couple he cried out: 

"YOU!" 

The audience and the staff, including Ray, was in a sweat. Too transfixed even to breathe, they stared in amazement at Fraser, desperately trying to disbelieve the enticing tale. Channel surfers everywhere rested their fingers from the remote controls and dialled up the telephone numbers that blared across the screen. All over the telephones were ringing off their hooks. Pledges came in like running water. 

"Then what happened?" Ray asked. 

"Do you really want me to continue?" Fraser asked, a sentiment of foreboding lurking in his voice. 

"Well, yeah!" Ray blurted and Fraser began once more his terrible tale. 

Steve trudged into the cabin, his enormous muscled body wafting into the tension like a knife. Fraser picked himself up and dusted off his clothes. Lydia, a look of torn innocence painted on her face, ran to her man and embraced him. 

"Oh, Steve, thank God you're here." She scowled viciously at Fraser who could not believe what was transpiring. "That monster tried to seduce me!" 

Fraser gaped at the couple. Had they gone mad? 

"Steve, you don't understand. I would never do anything like that." 

Fraser's defence was useless. 

"I'll kill you for this, Fraser!" Steve walked closer to Fraser, the breath escaping from his flaring nostrils like a tormented muskox. "Even if I hang, I'll make you pay for what you've done!" 

Grabbing an axe from a log, Steve raised it above his head and ran after Fraser. Picking up a chair, Fraser swung it at Steve, breaking the giant's nose in the process. 

"OW! Damn you, Fraser!" 

Wiping a stream of blood from his nostril, Steve took the axe once more and chased Fraser around the cabin. Lydia stood back, satisfied with the mischief she created. Grabbing his Stetson and his coat, Fraser ran into the darkness with Steve hot on his trail. 

"I should like to warn the audience that running out without proper winter attire is extremely perilous," Fraser warned. 

A caller interrupted him. 

"Shut up and get on with the story!" cried the old granny voice. 

Humbled, Fraser began again. 

Fraser raced through the pines, letting the snow-burdened branches whip his face. He backtracked when he was reasonably sure that Steve was too far behind him to close in. At last, Fraser arrived at the edge of the Marcus' Ravine, the most perilous physical feature west of Inuvik. One hundred and thirty metres down and ninety metres across, this was the daredevil sliding hill for fourth-graders with nothing to lose. Gently sloping for the first ten metres, it peaked at the eleventh and fell sharply for the rest of the way. It was cold and dark and comprised of sharp concaving rock. Doubled with ice and snow, if one fell in this ravine one would be, well, screwed. Fraser would have to backtrack through the woods to get to the cabin and retreat east into the town. He stepped back. Hearing only the wind at first, he honed his ears to listen for something else. The oncoming barrage of heavy footsteps through the thick, ice-encrusted snow and the brushing of a large body through the strong pines meant one thing. Spinning on his heels with the fear of a man who knows the end is near, Fraser faced the approaching leviathan. Steve screamed, running towards Fraser with axe upraised. Fraser leaned back, unaware of his footing. 

"Oh, sh-" 

Ray gawked at Fraser who seemed serene with the inevitable result. 

"Well! What happened?! What did you say to Steve?!" 

"I can't tell you that," Fraser confessed, "this is a family station." 

"So, what happened?" 

"I fell back into the ravine and lost consciousness." 

Fraser went silent. 

"When I came to, I realized that my leg and a few ribs were broken, I had several cuts and contusions, not to mention frostbite. I had to lift myself out of the ravine and crawl back to town. I found out then that Steve and his 'lovely' bride had flown to Hawaii for a wedding ceremony. I never saw them again. No one asked me what happened and I have been reluctant to speak of it. Are you happy, now?" 

Wiping beads of sweat from his forehead, Ray nodded. He could not speak. The story was just too incredible. Whilst the two sat in silence, the P.B.S. crew jumped for joy. Earning $100, 000 in just one evening, it had been their best showing yet. Fraser and Ray bade them good night and left for home. Once in Ray's celebrated Riv, Fraser pulled out a ten-dollar bill. 

"Here you are, Ray," Fraser presented the bill to Ray, who took it with glee. "You were right. The twenty-dollar one would have put them in immediate cardiac arrest."   


* * *

>


End file.
